Chapter 368: The Alliance (2)

The advantage of pointed elven ears extended beyond picking up distant sounds. Their more refined pinnae gave them superior ability to distinguish between sounds.

Eugene’s nightly poetry recitals during his stay in Elenost were a prime example. The content had to be well-composed, and reciting it with song-like rhythm was required to be considered cultured.

-Is it really that enjoyable?

-Of course!

Eugene wanted to make excuses and escape, but his wife loved it so much he couldn’t. How desperately had she longed for elven cultural life while living alone among dwarves and dark elves?

Anyway, elves who were so particular about poetry evaluation didn’t assess music solely by timbre.

-This isn’t music. Do you think having more instruments makes a piece excellent? It sounds like children, a boy with a breaking voice, middle-aged women, and old folks all mixed together, squawking.

-…We must endure.

About ten years ago. A new trading firm from the Small Kingdoms had brought an orchestra as a gesture of goodwill for future dealings.

The insulting critique made the musicians’ faces flush, and the firm’s owner desperately prevented a fight. Ruining the hard-won trade route with the elves would be unthinkable.

In truth, it wasn’t strange for elves to take such pride in their music.

-Listen, humans. Harmony isn’t the destination in music. If harmony is breath, bass is pulse and drums are heart. Your music has no life.

-As we listen, you lot are really… huh?

The elves’ impromptu performance immediately calmed even the angry musicians.

It turned out the elves had also prepared a performance as a gesture of goodwill toward the new trading firm.

-What is this large lute? Why does it have only four strings?

-It’s not a lute. It’s a bass guitar.

The musicians, their anger forgotten, listened with curiosity as the elves explained arrogantly.

The elves were the only ones in the world who operated bass guitars, and they were the only ones who bundled drums and cymbals as a set for one person to play.

Dark elves also had expertise in music, but their nomadic lifestyle made it difficult to develop the large, elaborate instruments that elves had.

“You seem to enjoy the background music.”

“Your Majesty!”

The elven chiefs greeted Eugene as he appeared from behind. But their surprise at the king’s appearance was brief, and a barrage of questions followed.

“What exactly is this music? It comes from what appear to be air vents, yet it sounds as vivid as if played right in front of us.”

“It’s not played by humans. Think of it as an exceptionally large magic music box. The castle plays music it remembers one by one. Different music would be playing elsewhere.”

“What instrument carries the main melody? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“A flute.”

“This is a flute?!”

The elves were horrified. Understandably so—flutes had existed since ancient times, but technical limitations meant narrow pitch ranges and unstable tones.

The flute cloned from Eugene’s image was realized with alloy material and precise metal keys and spring mechanisms. The difference from primitive flutes carved from wood and fingered over holes was immense.

The elves were captivated by the flute that led the orchestra with its clear, brilliant resonance.

“It’s as if an idealized new world were expressed in sound.”

“Who composed this piece? They must be renowned worldwide.”

The chiefs looked at Eugene with longing.

“I don’t know.”

But Eugene couldn’t have answered anyway.

For the Moving Castle to extract music from his imagination, hearing it a few times wasn’t enough. Famous symphonies were too long, and those he’d caught only in passing were impossible.

Only music he’d heard repeatedly, etched into his memory, could be extracted. The music playing on loop in stores he always visited, or the BGM of games he’d been obsessed with.

What was playing now was the latter.

The nostalgic BGM Eugene had heard while shopping as a single Sim. That was the true identity of the sweet music now playing. Naturally, he didn’t know who composed it or what it was called.

“Your Majesty! Please!”

“Ah, I really don’t know!”

*

Traditionally, elves and dark elves had a terrible relationship.

-We’re not so destitute that we need to beg the dark elves!

-It’s not from the dark elves. It’s from the king of Britainia, offering it freely. Like it or not, they’re our allies now.

-Ugh…

This was why the chiefs who came seeking military and material aid had worried throughout their visit. They feared conflicts between their subordinate elves and the dark elf residents.

“Good. Just keep things as they are.”

An elven chief spoke from the middle floor of the Moving Castle. Unlike the first-floor Food Court open to everyone, this area was restricted to residents, with only limited guests admitted.

“The cooperation agreements are settled, so everyone calm down. This is their home and we’re guests. Remember that.”

“Chief. Calm down or not, those guys aren’t interested in us at all.”

But applause required two hands meeting. Unlike the elves who burned with competitive spirit, not a single dark elf seemed interested in confrontation.

“The restroom is this way. The red knob gives hot water, the blue knob cold. Be careful.”

“…Thank you.”

They even offered friendly guidance. Not just because Eugene had instructed them multiple times, but because abundance bred generosity. With stable, prosperous living continuing for so long, and daily life mixing with Eugene and Valda, the residents’ mindset was gradually shifting to that of the upper class.

[The Lord will host a moonlight ball during the upcoming full moon.]

A dark elf woman’s voice accompanied by soft piano jazz drifted through the castle’s special zones, where ventilation ducts enabled broadcasts similar to what Eugene did.

[Those wishing to participate in the Ganggangsullae dedicated to Goddess Banas, please register in advance.]

Dark elves received the blessing of the moon. During full moons, faint moonlight flowed from their skin, creating a dreamlike appearance.

Eugene thought it wasteful to let this go unused and coordinated with the rapidly expanding Banas cult.

The sight of ladies dancing in circles without a single torch in the darkness was fantastical. Like a giant glow-in-the-dark bracelet spinning on its own.

-Beautiful…

-Not a single torch needed. Each of them is like a small star.

Anyone who had seen this scene once made sure to visit the Moving Castle’s vicinity during full moons.

In Britainia, it had already become a famous attraction. One of the elements Eugene had devised to bridge the gap between humans and dark elves.

“Are these really a nomadic tribe?”

The elven chiefs watched the passing dark elves with bewilderment. The simple, rough clothing typical of nomads was nowhere to be found.

The Moving Castle had purchased vast quantities of trade goods in every region it visited, including clothes, shoes, and accessories. The influence showed in their remarkably diverse appearance.

A lady wearing baggy Samur-style pants.

An old man in a velvet coat like a Barsian noble.

Young men in silk garments favored by Roman nobles.

A pregnant woman in a Britannian wool sweater.

“We heard they were wealthy, but this is…”

The elven chiefs’ eyes naturally rolled. Even a single garment, accessory, or shoe was of higher quality than the minimum standards of the outside world’s nobility.

The money earned from constant victories was one thing, but being able to purchase trade goods at cost—goods that would normally carry enormous distribution costs—was the real advantage.

“Chief. We’re hungry. Let’s eat something.”

“I heard they accept our currency too.”

This was the restaurant district. The elves’ mouths watered at the food they saw around them.

Unlike the first-floor Food Court with its simple long rectangular tables and chairs, this area had round tables with clean tablecloths, and indoor parasols for those who disliked overhead lighting.

Large potted plants on either side created a fresh atmosphere.

In the indoor pond, ornamental fish swam while turtles basked contentedly under the ceiling lights. Children stood before a large aviary, chatting enthusiastically with parrots.

The food was also different from the first-floor offerings. Unable to消耗 too much meat on outsiders, the first floor specialized in cutlets and schnitzel, but here they served whole meat dishes.

“Hoo, haaa.”

“What wonderful aroma?”

The scent of waffles held the elf party in place. Like everywhere else, but especially rare in elven lands—eggs, milk, and sugar baked in generous amounts, releasing a fragrant aroma.

The sweet scent of brown syrup rolling over the top was also unavailable at the first-floor Food Court. Like his subordinates, the fascinated chief approached the shop hesitantly.

“Thank you! Please come again!”

A cheerful beastkin girl accepted coins from a dwarf customer first. The coins bore the image of old man Gofri with closed eyes.

A white alloy of copper, zinc, and tin with delicate craftsmanship. Far more refined than the coins elves had received from outside merchants.

Since they were used almost exclusively within the Moving Castle, they had little chance of being damaged or dirtied.

“…”

In comparison, the square seeds they offered looked somewhat pathetic. Even those who had taken pride in their currency were learning much during their visit to the Moving Castle.

“This is exactly why we need to go outside. Look. While we maintained our isolationism, their lives have changed dramatically.”

In a group some distance away, a minor dispute broke out. An Avarim reformist was passionately arguing with a companion.

“We have our own ways.”

“You can say that after seeing this abundance?”

“Let’s be clear. This magical castle is remarkable, but life outside isn’t necessarily so. War, famine, plague, exploitation—that’s the outside world.”

The calm rebuttal silenced even the Avarim. It wasn’t untrue.

“Isn’t this a prime opportunity to board that magnificent castle? His Majesty welcomes elves who will serve the queen. Many have already applied.”

This was also true. Excluding the Avarim, elves whose villages had been destroyed or who possessed strong adventurous spirits were requesting residency.

The isolationism that had persisted from the Second Age to the Third was already showing significant cracks.

“Your cream waffles are ready!”

But those were concerns for later. Before the tempting pastries wrapped in large leaves, the arguing elves united once more.

*

Eugene’s subordinates excelled not only at hunting large monsters but also at transporting their carcasses.

-Leave this menial work to us, Your Majesty. Please rest.

-No. I should help too. If we’re not careful, casualties could occur during transport.

Despite his words, the transport team was secretly pleased by Eugene’s involvement. These weren’t ordinary large, heavy carcasses.

With Eugene joining the effort, after several days of exertion, the massive body appeared before the Moving Castle. The head alone had commanded tremendous presence, but with the full body, the majesty was on another level entirely.

“What kind of creature has claws the size of a person?”

The castle’s residents, along with elves who had never seen a dragon in person, were awestruck.

“It’s much warmer than the head. Ahahaha!”

Curious children gathered at the dragon’s underbelly, stroking and hugging it. Like kittens seeking their mother’s milk. The size difference was extreme, but still.

“You lot! It’s dangerous, move back!”

“It’s already dead, what’s the big deal?”

“Don’t touch the blood!”

Parents who knew the stories of those killed by dragon blood hastily pulled their children away.

But standing before the dragon’s body, it was noticeably warm despite winter. Like standing before an enormous hot-water heater.

Meanwhile, the master butchers scratched their heads with troubled expressions.

“Your Majesty. We’ve considered various approaches, but making armor from dragon hide seems difficult.”

“As expected. I had a rough idea.”

“Because of its blood, the processing difficulty is too high. Dragon hide is tough, but there are plenty of substitute materials.”

The unique honeycomb pattern had disappeared from the dead dragon’s hide. The mystic property that had greatly enhanced its durability and impact resistance had been severed.

This was a type of magic the dragon consciously employed. After hunting the dragon, it was naturally impossible to craft hide armor with the same effect.

Unlike iron, which could be obtained anytime, the maintenance would also be extremely tedious.

“The knights will be disappointed. They were really looking forward to it.”

“There’s nothing to be done. A knight’s eternal companion is still steel, isn’t it?”

“But cloaks should be possible.”

“That changes things!”

For battle armor it might be lacking, but for cloaks, no better material could be imagined.

“It would also make a fine souvenir for the knights who followed us here to fight.”

“A dragon cloak. This is a treasure beyond gold coins. The knights who didn’t join this expedition will all be jealous.”

The moment it was distributed, it would become an heirloom passed down through generations.

“The problem is how to butcher this body, which has been pickled in magma and curses.”

The dwarven butcher stroked his beard while the dark elf butcher ran a hand through his hair as they circled the dragon’s carcass.

They were thrilled to handle historically significant material but honestly overwhelmed. It was still too dangerous to even drain the blood.

“I have something in mind for that.”

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

Eugene answered by looking at the Moving Castle. The butchers followed his gaze.

“You don’t mean the restricted area…?”

Someone spoke.

The Moving Castle contained areas where even residents were forbidden to enter. It wasn’t like a lord’s hunting ground, monopolized to establish authority.

Where there was light, there was shadow. Unlike the luxurious residential zones and convenient spaces, there existed gloomy and dangerous locations.

The Incarnation Room that had revived a dying Might into a World Charger was one example. The Core Room, where unauthorized entrants had their minds torn apart, was another. But the Moving Castle had an area more dangerous than both.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to step back from the dragon butchering. In a few days, only bones and hide will remain, and I’d like you to handle those.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

The butchers bowed without question. Eugene usually treated his subordinates informally, even exchanging fist bumps with common laborers.

But regarding the restricted area, the unwritten rule was absolute: don’t ask, don’t question, just follow. This was one of the most important ironclad rules for the castle’s residents.

*

The dragon’s carcass was placed before a secret door that was never used in normal times.

Unlike the main entrance leading to the lobby, or the cargo doors leading to stables and warehouses, this was the only gate providing direct external access to the restricted area.

“See nothing. Ask nothing.”

“Just lower your eyes and pull the rope.”

The foremen didn’t even need to urge them. The workers pulling ropes from various points worked in silence in concentrated dedication.

Unlike the castle’s logistics warehouses, the secret room lacked the distinctive glass tube lighting. Sunlight streaming through the open door provided sufficient visibility, but the atmosphere was ominous.

The contrast between the sunlit back and shadowed front made it feel like a different creature entirely.

‘Is this really the Moving Castle?’

‘The dwarves are this frightened?’

The dwarves’ beards had all bristled like startled cats’ fur.

“Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Without Eugene standing on the podium at the deepest point, some might have fled.

“It’s nice that it’s not cold, but…”

“It has a nasty warmth to it.”

An ominous aura seeped from everywhere. Not the cozy warmth unique to the Moving Castle, but the unpleasant heat of being inside some living creature’s stomach.

“Your Majesty. The transfer inside is complete.”

“Good work, everyone. You may leave now.”

Eugene saw off the workers who filed out without looking back.

“Aren’t you coming, Your Majesty?”

“I’ll handle things here. You all go first.”

“…”

Thud.

After the last worker departed, the secret door closed and darkness descended.

“Eat to your heart’s content. But the bones and hide are mine. Don’t waste the blood either. There may be uses for it somewhere.”

As Eugene’s words ended, squirming sounds echoed from walls and ceiling throughout.

Eugene activated his thermal vision and gazed at the dragon’s carcass. Thanks to the heat-retaining dragon blood, it looked like a campfire burning in the darkness.

But after a few minutes, the campfire in the shape of a dragon was entwined by things glowing even brighter red.

Squelch.

Crack.

Slosh.

Flesh was pierced, blood flowed. Vine-like, worm-like things began gnawing at the dragon’s carcass.

“Eat well.”

Eugene stroked one of them. The moist, squirming flesh pulsed with intense energy. By the day after tomorrow, the dragon’s bones should be ready for display.

Nature, too, had its ugly parts—swamps and parasites. The concept of a living castle wasn’t purely romantic. It harbored a terrifying aspect as well.